Past tense.
Oh no.
Riot looked at me, and there was a shimmer in his eyes, reflected by the city light. He ran a hand through his hair, drank the rest of the beer, then tossed the bottle over with the first one.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Yes,” he replied, “you did. You intruded very deliberately. Unless you want to claim you wandered up two ladders and a catwalk by coincidence.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. But if I had known… I would have given you your space.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. I think about Teddy a lot, especially when we perform. He was the one who got me into music, and bought me my first guitar. So whenever I finish a show, I find a way to the roof of the venue and have a drink in Teddy’s honor.”
“That’s really nice.”
“Yeah.”
We sat in silence together for a bit.
“I’ll leave you alone,” I said, rising to my feet. “Sorry again. I—”
My toe got caught on the roof platform, and I stumbled. Forward, toward the edge. The world spun, and I tried to screambut no noise would come out, and in a flash I imagined my body smashing onto the concrete far below…
Riot wrapped his arm around me, pulling me away from the edge. I clung to him, panting, and stared at the spot where the platform ended in open air. I was never really close to falling off, but with my fear of heights, it felt like I’d just had a near-death experience.
“I got you,” he breathed, holding me tightly in his arms. “You’re all right. I got you.”
I got you.
That simple phrase stirred something inside of me. Something primal. Combined with the way I already felt about him, and his intoxicating scent, and his hands on my back…
I never had a chance.
I gazed up at Riot, my chest pressed up against his. He felt so strong andsturdy, like as long as I kept him close, I would never have to be afraid of falling ever again.
There was a moment of conflict in his dark eyes. A storm of desire and lust. I recognized it because it was the same thing I felt deep inside my body, deep inside mysoul.
I tried to resist the feeling. I didn’t want to surrender to it, but a huge part of me did. In the end, my own internal conflict didn’t matter.
Because Riot surrendered first.
15
Roxie
The kiss wasn’t careful.
It wasn’t sweet.
It was hungry and demanding. It held the intensity of days of secret glances and restrained lust, and carried the leftover pulse of the show. When my mouth opened under his, I felt the way the crowd had shouted his name, the way I’d watched him own the stage like it belonged to him andonlyhim.
My hands went to his chest, felt his heart under the worn cotton of his shirt, felt how fast it was going. He made a sound low in his throat. His fingers locked around my wrists and my breath stuttered, not because I couldn’t move, but because he wanted me to feel exactly where he meant to keep me.
The city kept moving below us. Sirens in the distance. Laughter from somewhere far off. I stayed pressed into him, choosing his breath over every other sound the city offered.
Riot broke the kiss, breath warm against my lips. His voice was a low rumble that I could feel in my sternum. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”
“I’ve been wanting you to,” I breathed.
